


You and Me

by Ride4812



Series: Prompts/Requests [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: After 7x12, M/M, Reference to suicide note, Reunion Sex, no suicide, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812
Summary: Ian knows he made a mistake leaving Mickey and is intent on making it right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Kel's awesome tweet. Find her on Twitter @mikhaxlo  
> and was requested by Leanna!
> 
> Hope you like it :)

It was difficult to admit that Frank was the catalyst for the single greatest decision he'd ever made in his life. Though most of his bloviating held as much weight as the wind to Ian, his father's eulogy for Monica sat heavy on his heart. The love the old drunk had described was a once in a lifetime, messy, beautiful, crazy fucking love. It was a love that burrowed below the skin, tore through muscle and cracked bones. He didn't have the wherewithal to survive more than one love like that, so Mickey consumed all of him; owned his body, possessed his head and squeezed his heart. He didn't want an easy, sensible, boring love. He wanted wild, free, passion and pain. Mickey. He wanted Mickey. He needed Mickey. He loved Mickey. 

Stranger than Frank being the impetus for Ian realizing his horrible mistake, was the fact that Monica was the springboard to thrust his plan into action. The bearer of bad genes who he could credit for not only his Bipolar but also his propensity for running when things got complicated, ended up being a savior of sorts. Without the money he made selling the meth she'd left them, he would've never been able to afford the used 2015 KIA Rio that he'd purchased the weekend after her funeral. 

He knew that in order to find Mickey in Mexico, he had to go by way of Russia. Eight mornings after he watched the love of his life drive away without him, he was banging on the door of the not yet opened Alibi.

"Where's Mickey?" He asked frantically after she swung open the door. 

She hissed angrily, locked the door behind her, and dragged him to the alley by his elbow, "You do not think that they have my place under surveillance? Do you not have a brain in that orange head?"

"Fuck," Ian muttered scratching the back of his neck, "Not thinking straight anymore, can't get him outta my head."

Svetlana rolled her eyes and sighed, "He sends me a letter through some man called Martin in Nevada. This letter was all numbers. I am good with numbers so I easily crunched this code." She looked smug, but she deserved to. 

"Cracked," Ian corrected, immediately shifting his weight under Svetlana's death glare.

"Anyway, I easily cracked this code," She dropped her voice even lower and moved in closer to his face, "He is in a small town in Oaxaca called Puerto Escondido. He tells me not to tell you because you are dipshit asshole." 

"Did he really?" Ian asked his green eyes wide. 

"No. But you are," She stated plainly, "He just said where he is and that he will send money for Yevgeny soon."

"Puerto Escondido, Puerto Escondido," Ian repeated twice to ingrain it to his memory. 

"How did you know he would reach out to me?" Svetlana asked, brushing her hand through her hair as if she was uninterested in the answer to her own question.

"Knew he was planning to take care of Yevgeny. The best he could, I guess," Ian said with a shrug, "wouldn't fuck him over."

"Not like you did, yes?" Svetlana shot back. 

"Not like I did," Ian agreed softly, "I'm sorry."

"But you will be around to make it up to him?" She pressed. 

"I won't be," He replied cautiously, relaxing when he caught the sparkle in her eye. 

She gave him a wry smirk and said, "I wish I could say that I will miss you."

Ian laughed lightly but as quickly as his smile came it faded and his face grew serious, "Listen, my family doesn't..."

"Unlike you, I do still have a brain in my head," She interrupted, giving him a gentle smack on the arm, "I will not say one word to them. It will not be that hard, since I do not like them," She rolled her eyes, "America is going down the hill anyway, yes?"

Ian nodded, gave her a weak grin and looked at her face for a little longer than necessary, knowing it would most likely be the last time he saw it, at least for a while. Not allowing himself to consider how difficult it would be to look at his siblings' faces over the next 24 hours, he said an awkward 'goodbye' and made his way to the library so he could Google directions. 

He'd decided to leave later that night. Once he got in the car and started to drive it would take 44 hours to be in the same city as Mickey again. 2460 minutes to think about how to make things right. 

He made his way home and as discretely as possible began to rifle through the drawers, packing only as much as would fit in his old army duffle. After throwing it into the trunk of his car, he laid on his bed with an old spiral notebook and a pen. He felt as if he was writing suicide notes; a farewell to the life he'd known but would never come back to:

Dear Liam,  
I'm going to miss you, little Monkey. Some advice from your big brother: Don't listen to Frank, join ROTC in High School and don't let anyone tell you who you are or who you should be. I love you.  
Ian

Dear Carl,  
Words can't express how proud I am of you. You became who I strove to be, but you did it better than I could have ever done. Stick with Military School, become a fucking Marine, blow shit up and stay awesome. I love you.  
Ian

Dear Debs,  
I'm going to miss you and Frannie. I'm sorry I won't be there to watch her grow up, but I'm so glad I got to watch you. You are a beautiful, strong woman and a great mother. I love you.  
Ian

Dear Lip,  
You've always been my best friend, you smug prick. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. I hope you understand why I needed to go. You've known from the beginning how much he means to me.  
I love you.  
Ian

Dear Fiona,  
Thank you for sacrificing all you did to raise us, Fi. Don't blame yourself for me leaving. You didn't fuck up. This is all me. You said he'd set fire to my life, but you were wrong. Without him there is no life. I hope you find a love like we have, because you deserve it. I have a fresh refill of my meds and a bunch of samples. I'll find a doctor when I get there. I'll be in good hands. He took care of me before. I'll be ok. I love you.  
Ian

Dear Frank,  
Fuck you.  
Ian

He folded them all carefully and picked up his phone to send a text to Mandy:

You're the first Milkovich I loved, but thankfully you weren't the last. I'll love you forever, too.

Immediately after sending the message he took his phone down to the kitchen and smashed it with a cutting board. He dumped the shards and pieces into the trash can, too worried he was being tracked to use it on his way down to Oaxaca. It was both terrifying and liberating. 

He waited until midnight to sneak down to the kitchen and leave the notes on the table. He gave the house a last once-over before quietly opening the door and climbing into his car. It felt apropos to be in the driver's seat and he idly wondered how often in his life he'd actually taken that spot. He made it to to Memphis, Tennessee a little before 7am and he pulled into a truck stop to piss, eat and sleep. He cursed his legs for being so goddamn long and the backseat of the Rio for being so fucking small. Unable to get comfortable, he went back up to the front seat and drifted off for what felt like the briefest nap in the history of naps. He knew he needed to get more sleep than he had but he was anxious and excited to get back on the road.

He could barely keep his eyes open as he approached Dallas, Texas. He used some of his meth money to get a Motel room, needing to stretch out in a bed and recharge. It was hard not to think about how much more appealing the shitty room would've been if Mickey had been laying next to him. 28 hours to go. 1680 minutes until he could start to try to redeem himself.

The stretch from Dallas to Laredo, Texas was the most emotionally taxing. He stopped at the familiar Gas Station and purchased coffee and a Kind Bar, becoming oddly nostalgic of Mickey calling him a 'pussy.' Only Mick could make a slur sound so endearing. As he drove, it was hard to forget the anxiety he'd felt building when he and Mickey had taken the same route, ten days earlier. It was somewhere on that road that he'd decided that he couldn't do it; He couldn't leave everything he knew behind, he couldn't demolish all that he had built. Little did he know that the only thing that would end up destroyed from his decision was his heart. He'd thought that he'd established a life worth living with his steady job and boyfriend, but he quickly realized that he'd created something that truly mattered years earlier with Mickey. 

He cried as he crossed the border, thinking of how hurt and alone Mickey must have felt; how abandoned. He admonished himself for always running, never pushing through when shit got hard. He wasn't going to do that again. He was going to be steady, consistent, and ready to give Mickey the love he deserved. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were tear stained as he drove down the dark, poorly lit road to Monterey, Mexico. He pulled over to sleep in the front seat of the Rio, too exhausted to be uncomfortable. His eyelids rose with the sun. He grabbed a granola bar from his stash in the backseat and began the 12 hour drive to Zihuatanejo, Mexico. 

He reached Zihuatanejo just as the sun was beginning to set. It was the first time he saw the ocean. He was taken aback by the seemingly endless cobalt blue expanse and how it seemed painted against the pale pink horizon. He parked his car on the side of a beach and laid in the sand, thinking of how often he and Mickey would do this in the coming months, their remaining years. He hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep until he was being awakened by a man nudging his side with his toe and saying something angrily in Spanish. The sun was rising and he felt oddly refreshed. He got back into his car, glanced down at his chicken-scratched notes and realized that in 11 hours he'd be in Puerto Escondido. He felt a rush of energy charge through his body. 660 minutes until he arrived in the town that he hoped to settle down in. 

It was somewhere around Acapulco that he started to panic, worried that he hadn't fully thought his plan through. He'd assumed that Mickey would take him back, but what if he didn't? He wasn't going to leave. He'd stay there until he wore him down if he had to. He'd prove his love. He ran back to him, instead of running away, that had to mean something. He hated thinking of Mickey alone in this foreign country, not believing that he had ever truly loved him enough. The thought made his stomach churn. He swallowed down the nasty taste in his mouth and concentrate on the road.

He arrived in Puerto Escondido around dinner time. He tried to take in the beauty of the jagged rocks jutting up from the sea as he drove on twisty hillside roads, but all he could focus on was the erratic pounding of his heart and he sound his blood rushing in his ears. He pulled his car into a parking spot in the center of the the small "downtown" which consisted of a few casual looking restaurants and one dive bar. He wasn't exactly sure how be was going to locate Mickey, since he didn't have an address, but he figured the bar was a good place to start. He made his way into the bar, disappointed when he didn't catch sight of him. Feeling skeptical eyes honed in on him, he went out to the narrow alley and lit up a cigarette. He couldn't help but smile when he looked down the small corridor and saw the ocean in his line of vision. In Chicago, alleys led to dumpsters, in Puerto Escondido they opened up to paradise.

He was on his fifth cigarette of the last three hours when his eyes locked on a familiar figure. He knew that silhouette anywhere; the broad shoulders, narrow waist, thick thighs and bubble butt. He couldn't stop his body from trembling with anticipation. He stomped out his cigarette and a wave of nausea crash over his body. This was it. 

As Mickey approached the front door of the bar, Ian reached his hand out in the darkness and grabbed his left wrist, ducking quickly as the smaller man threw a punch with his right. He heard Mickey's breath hitch as he looked up into his pale blue eyes, "Gallagher," His voice sounded strained and confused as if there was no possible explanation for Ian Gallagher to be standing in a shadowy alley in the middle of Puerto Escondido, Mexico. He smacked the side of his face gently, as if he was trying to determine if he was an illusion his mind had created to assuage his pain, "The fuck're you doin' here?"

Ian stared dumbly at him, hand still wrapped around his wrist, fingers thumping as Mickey's pulse raced wildly underneath of them.

"How the hell'd you find me?" He swallowed hard, sounding slightly panicked that he could be found so easily, "Was it Svet?" He gnawed on the inside of his cheek nervously, "Did you talk..." 

"Shut up," Ian interrupted dropping down to one knee. His fingers loosened their grip on his arm so they could slide down and intertwine with tattooed digits, "Fucking marry me."

"The fuck Gallagher, are you fucking serious right now?" He asked eyes wide. His facial expression looked to be somewhere between complete disgust and utter awe. 

"I'm on my knee an alley in bumblefuck Mexico. I'm fucking serious," Ian assured him, unable to hold back the pleading in his eyes.

"You look like shit," Mickey stated, clearing his throat and taking in Ian's disheveled hair and stubbly face.

"Drove for 44 hours," He replied painfully aware that he was still on his knee. He wasn't sure if he was proposing or begging. He figured he was doing a little of both, "Please... marry me."

"Can't go back to Chicago," Mickey said tentatively, raising his eyebrows as if Ian had become incoherent. 

"I'm here. On my knee. In an alley. In Bumblefuck, Mexico," He reiterated slowly, "asking you to marry me."

"You're here," Mickey repeated, as if he realized that he was for real and it was for good, "to fucking stay."

He nodded and bit his lip, "So..." he probed his voice wavering with emotion, "please fucking marry me."

"Alright," Mickey murmured, his knees beginning to wobble at the gravity of the moment. Before either of them knew what was happening, Mickey's back was being pushed against the side of the building. The kiss was ravenous from the start, the hunger of their want consuming them both. Lips and tongues sought the other man greedily as their hands went from cheeks to hair and back again.

"Fuck, I love you," Ian whispered against full lips, his words instantly hushed by Mickey's teeth pulling his bottom lip out and tongue sliding back into his mouth. They kissed vehemently until they were both panting for air, "Where do you live?" He asked breathlessly a broad smile spreading across his face. 

A mischievous smirk turned up Mickey's lips as he raised his eyebrows suggestively and practically dragged Ian down the block to a shitty one room shack. Without warning, Mickey grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pushed him hard against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him. He smashed his lips against Ian's, his tongue desperately chasing the redhead's around his mouth, catching it and then fighting for dominance. "Fuck you, Gallagher," He muttered against Ian's lips, "Love you too fucking much."

His breath hitched as Ian swung him around into the back of the door so he could lead the kiss, his teeth pulling on Mickey's bottom lip. Ian slid his tongue into the brunet's mouth as he grinded the bulge in his pants against Mickey's. Missing his taste, Ian dropped to his knees and yanked down Mickey's shorts and boxer briefs in one fell swoop. 

"Suck it," Mickey gasped, shivering as Ian kissed the inside of his thighs and laid a flat tongued lick on his balls. He wrapped his long fingers around the base of his thick cock, beginning to stroke him as he brought his mouth up to his leaking slit. Ian pressed his tongue against Mickey, delivering just the right amount of pressure to make him groan loudly, "Like that?" He asked as he began to swirl his tongue around the head, stopping every so often to lick down the shaft only to lap at the slit and swirl at the head once again.

"Fuuuck," Mickey groaned, his lover's sexy raspiness inspiring him to give it to him good. He went to work deep throating, hollowing his cheeks, lightly dragging teeth, lapping his tongue heavy, and completely wrecking Mickey in the process. 

Mickey could feel his whole body begin to shiver and shake, needing to grab onto Ian's hair to feel grounded. He was overwhelmed with the happenings of the night; the fact that Ian was there, for good, with him. He let himself get high on the intensity, the heady, amazing shock of it all. 

Just when Mickey thought he knew what he would do next, Ian would change it up; ghosting over his balls, nipping at his thigh, tracing the base of his cock with his tongue while Mickey's tip was brushing against the back of his throat. The brunet tapped the side of his head to indicate that he should stop, afraid if he kept going he was going to cum before he was ready too. 

Ian stood up and kissed Mickey to the mattress on in the floor, both of them quickly shedding the clothes that remained on their bodies. Mickey laid back and tossed Ian the lube that was laying by the side of the bed, "Wanna eat you open," Ian said spreading Mickey's legs and beginning to lick wetly around.

"Need you the fuck in me, man," Mickey stated biting his lip and shaking his head, "Use your fingers and hurry the hell up."

Ian pushed the cool gel out to coat his fingers and began to to trace them around Mickey's puckered hole. When he felt the lube was appropriately warmed he slowly pushed his middle finger in incrementally until Mickey's body allowed his knuckle in. He bounced his finger as he pushed in deeper. Leaning down to kiss Mickey, he moved his finger in small circles, gradually making them wider and brushing against his prostate with every revolution. 

"Fuuuck," Mickey sighed as Ian added his index finger to the mix, painstakingly repeating the routine. He didn't focus too much on the smaller circles, knowing that lover's body was already hungry for more. Mickey lavished the larger rotations, with Ian pushing back hard against his barriers so he was good and ready to take his big cock. Scissoring his fingers wide he stretched him out and began the cycle again. On his third time around he could hear soft whimpers escaping Mickey's lips, making their way into Ian's mouth. He dropped his other hand to Mickey's stiff cock and started to stroke him languidly, "Get the fuck in me," He groaned.

Ian got onto his knees, his face flushed redder around the mouth, his lips puffy and well kissed. He lined his cock up with Mickey's opening and looked at the beautiful man under him practically vibrating with want, "I'm sorry. Gonna make it up to you," Ian promised slowly inching his hard dick into Mickey's tightness.

"You're here," Mickey replied quietly, "no fucking running this time."

"Shh, I'm here," Ian assured him, pushing his hair back out of his face, lovingly. They both let out low moans as he pushed in until he was fully seated, filling Mickey up completely, plunged to the hilt. Ian felt Mickey's body vibrate around him. He laid flank against Mickey, kissing and sucking at his shoulder as he slowly rolled his hips into him. The room was almost silent now, save the soft grunts and moans they were releasing into each other's skin.

Ian peeled his lips off of Mickey's shoulder so he could look into those deep blue eyes. They were hooded and blown, looking at Ian with such lust and admiration that the redhead knew he would cum if he didn't look away. He rested his forehead against Mickey's as he pushed in deeper, giving pointed pulses to his prostate. He snaked his hands up around the back of Mickey's neck holding the cradle of his head as he nuzzled his nose up to rub at Mickey's, "I love you" he whispered knowing that he never planned to stop telling Mickey how he felt. He connected their lips once again as Mickey gasped into his mouth at his latest plunge. He nipped at Mickey's bottom lip pulling it out a little so that he could slip his tongue deep into his mouth.

"I'm close," Mickey mumbled around Ian's tongue. They were holding each other for dear life, so tight that Ian's stomach rubbing against Mickey's cock was all the friction he needed.

"Cum for me," Ian practically begged as he moved his lips down to kiss the juncture between Mickey's jaw and neck. He thrusted his cock in hard, jabbing at Mickey's prostate until the brunet was shaking and strung out beneath him. Mickey let out a sputtering moan as the heat of his release poured from him onto Ian's stomach, binding them together, just as Ian came deep in Mickey, warming him, claiming him.

They laid a heaving heap of tangled limbs and stolen kisses, quiet and sated until a rumble of laughter rose from Mickey's stomach and out his mouth. 

"What?" Ian asked curiously, a grin on his face. He loved seeing Mickey's smile, hearing his laugh. 

"You're too fucking much, you know that?," He teased raking his fingers through fire red hair, "Fucking drama queen."

"I'm drama," Ian retorted pulling up to his elbows and grinning down at Mickey, "You broke out of prison. You'll forever hold the title of the most fucking dramatic."

"Fuck off," Mickey scoffed, rolling his eyes, "You could've just gotten in the fucking car and saved both of us from your big gay display."

Ian was laughing now, too, "Big gay display. You fucking loved every minute of it."

"I knew I was getting that cock, so I put up with it," Mickey said with a click of his tongue and a shrug.

"I'm about to beat that ass," Ian teased pushing Mickey's hips so he was turned over on his stomach. He laid a smack on his bare ass cheek, drawing a soft grunt from Mickey.

"Better beat it better than that," He challenged with a smirk. He spanked him harder, laughing wildly when Mickey sprung up to tackle him down. 

All the trepidation melted away when he looked up into Mickey's eyes, "You and me, man?"

Ian nodded and licked his lips, summoning for Mickey to come closer, "You and me."

Zero minutes until they made the decision to never be apart again. 


End file.
